


Three's the Charm

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Come Swallowing, Dog Tags, Dom John Watson, Dom Lestrade, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Marking, Multi, Praise Kink, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Spitroasting, Strapping, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:17:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants something from John, but what Sherlock wants is a threesome with one Greg Lestrade.  The only problem?  Both John and Greg are Dominants, and John isn't sure they can play nice together.  He's willing to try though, and no one regrets the decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CatieBrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatieBrie/gifts).



> For the wonderful [CatieBrie](http://catie-brie.tumblr.com/) who was the lucky winner of my first ever Sherlock Fanfic Giveaway! Her prompt was for some Johnlockstrade with John and Greg being dominant and Sherlock getting the best of both of them.

“John?”  Sherlock said, tilting his head toward the door as he started to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll be along in a minute.  Just need to talk to Greg.”  John said casually.  He ignored Sherlock’s raised eyebrows and shut the office door behind him.  John took a steadying breath and turned on Lestrade.  “This has got to stop.”

Greg looked a bit confused.  “John, I don’t...’

“Don’t,”  John stepped closer to Greg’s desk, held up a finger to quiet him.  “Don’t play dumb.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t, mate.”

John let out an angry huff of breath, resting his fists on the surface of Greg’s desk, staring him down.  “I’m talking about the way you look at him.”  He said through his teeth.

Greg straightened up in his chair.  “Jesus, John. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Sherlock thinks you do.  He thinks that if I hadn’t come into the picture you would have made a move years ago.”

Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “I’m not going to say I haven’t thought about it, but fuck, John, you’ve seen him!”  Greg made a sweeping gesture in the direction Sherlock had exited.  “You’d have to be mad not to want a piece of that on some level, even when he’s being an absolute bastard.  And I would never come between you two.”

“Never?”  John questioned, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Greg’s desk.

“God, of course not.  You do remember why my wife and I split, yeah?”

“What if you were invited?”

Greg balked for a moment, trying to judge the seriousness of John’s statement, but there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on John’s face.  Just a placid expression.  “What do you mean?” he asked tentatively.

“I mean what if Sherlock and I invited you in?  Not the relationship.  Just the sex.  And only sometimes.”  John was clearly choosing his words carefully.

“Are you talking about a … a _threesome_ ,” Greg whispered the last word, “with you and Sherlock?”

“Yes.”  John said straight-faced.

Greg was suspicious, and still more than a little confused.  “You don’t seem all that thrilled with the idea.”

That wasn’t exactly the case.  John wanted Greg, wanted the threesome, but Sherlock had said something that had put John on edge.  “No, I am.” John started off, “but I’m concerned that we’ll … clash.”

“Clash?”  Greg echoed.  

John let out a breath, maybe straightforward was the best way to go about this.  “Sherlock says that you’re … dominant, in the bedroom.”  John coughed.  “An experienced Dom, actually.”

“And so are you.”  Greg completed the thought, finally feeling a bit more caught up on what the hell was going on.

“Exactly.  Sherlock wants this, and I want to give it to him, and there is literally no one else we would want more than you.”  John paused, giving Greg a look he hoped would convey the absolute honesty of that statement.  There wasn’t anyone else.  No one else both John and Sherlock trusted so completely.  It didn’t hurt that they both also found him attractive.  “So, we’re offering, but…”  

“But you’ll want me to play by _your_ rules.”  Greg said and John nodded.  Greg leaned back in his chair, absently twirling a pen in his fingers as he thought about the offer.  It was tempting.  So tempting, and Greg thought there was a good chance that if he refused now, it wouldn’t come again.  Then, he had an idea.  “I have another proposal.”  he smiled.

John’s eyebrows went up.  “What’s that then?”

“How about I play by _Sherlock’s_ rules and you and I make a game of it?”

“A game?  How so?”  John was intrigued, leaning forward in his chair.

Greg gave a little shrug, all but grinning now.  “Whoever gets him off best wins.”

“Deal.”  John answered with a smile of his own, confident that his knowledge of what Sherlock liked would beat out the novelty of a new partner handily and without question.  “How’s Friday at six for you?”

“Friday’s great.”  Greg answered.

“I’ll get dinner.  Bring an overnight bag and any toys you want, although you’re welcome to ours.”  John stood up.  “No blood, no scars, no blows to the face.  Marks and bruising are fine.  He likes it rough but no extended pain or positions.  ‘Red’ is full stop, ‘yellow’ is pause and check-in, ‘green’ is everything’s fine.  I’ll text you if there’s anything else Sherlock wants in place.”  John turned and walked to the door, his hand on the knob before he turned back to face Greg with a wicked smile.  “Just remember he’s mine.  I _will_ win.”  And with that John left.

Greg was left sitting in his office still a bit gobsmacked and suddenly contemplating a threesome with the two men he hands down fantasized about the most.  “Huh.” he said to the empty room.

 

* * *

 

Friday came quickly, and at exactly six o’clock Greg was knocking on the door of 221B, a duffel bag in his hand, full of expectation.  Only John was there to meet him though.

“I hope Thai’s okay.”  John smiled talking Greg’s coat and bag, then leading him into the kitchen and a corner of table cleared of Sherlock’s experiments and set with two plates.

“Sherlock’s not here?”  Greg questioned.

“He’ll be home from the lab in a little over an hour.  I thought it would give us some time to get things set up.  And honestly, you’re much better dinner company.”  John laughed and started opening containers.

“I suppose that’s the truth.”  Greg said, taking a seat.

Dinner was good and the conversation was surprisingly easy.  They chatted lightly about their experiences, how they had gotten into the scene and what they liked or disliked in a sub.  Greg found himself not only comfortable talking to John about it, but happy to as well, and he was starting to think that even if tonight didn’t work out as they wanted,  he hoped that he and John could do just this again.  

“So, should we get down to business?”  John said, putting away the leftovers and clearing their plates.

“Yeah.  I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”  Greg grinned and went to grab his bag.  “I didn’t bring much, though.  Figured you'd have it covered.”

John led him into the bedroom.  “I thought we should just keep things simple.  The threesome itself is what he really wants out of this, and I think too much else might overwhelm him.”    

“Sounds good.” Greg said, setting his bag down on the big bed and opening it, noticing the restraints that looked permanently attached to the bedposts.  

John watched as Greg unpacked the few items he had brought with him and tried to hide his smile.  Their game was going to be _very_ interesting and Sherlock was going to be so happy.  John picked out the couple things Greg had brought that they didn’t already have, added them to the collection layed out on the desk, and let Greg put the rest of it away, stashing his bag in a corner.  

They talked briefly about what they wanted, and how things were going to play out, but decided mostly to let Sherlock decide.  John went over the limits again and Greg asked him a few questions about any things Sherlock particularly disliked.  They were both starting to get a bit anxious for Sherlock to get home and to get started.

They were sitting back at the kitchen table when Sherlock came in just a little while later.

“Why is Lestrade in our flat?  Is there a case?  You should have texted me if there was a case.”  Sherlock rushed in, hanging up his coat and scarf.  

John got up quickly, backing Sherlock up against the kitchen counter.  “You remember what we talked about?”  John asked, his voice quiet but authoritative.  Sherlock’s brows knit together briefly as he looked back and forth between John and Greg before things seemed to click.

“Oh.” Sherlock whispered.

“Mmhmm.  Still good?”  John asked.  Sherlock nodded slowly, his eyes starting to go wide.  “He knows the basics, anything you need to add?  Anything different for today?”

Greg couldn’t help but smile at how clearly caring John was with Sherlock, and the shift in Sherlock’s behaviour that was already starting.

“No, John.  Everything’s good as is.”  Sherlock answered, his voice quivering just a little.

John went up on his toes to press a kiss to Sherlock’s mouth before fishing his dog tags out from under his shirt, pulling them off and putting them on Sherlock.  “Go have a shower, you smell like formaldehyde.  Then, we’re going to play with you.”  John said simply and Sherlock drew in a quick breath, looking again over John’s shoulder to Greg.  

Greg gave him a hungry grin and watched Sherlock’s cheeks turn pink.  “Don’t keep us waiting, yeah?”  Greg teased.

John took a step back and Sherlock slipped past him to the bathroom, an obvious bulge in his trousers.  Greg had to admit he was getting there too.

“Shall we?”  John said, inclining his head toward the bedroom.

“Absolutely!” Greg answered.

It wasn’t long before Sherlock padded softly into the bedroom, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp.  Greg closed the door behind him as John advanced on his front.  He nosed under Sherlock’s jaw, trailing his hands over Sherlock’s stomach down to the towel.

“Much better, love.”  John said as Greg stepped up close behind Sherlock.  “But, you won’t be needing this, will you?”  John tugged lightly at the towel and it slipped to the floor.

Greg gave an appreciative little groan, putting his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and running them down his warm skin to grope his arse.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tear a strip out of you, Sherlock.”  Greg growled low in his ear.  “To see you on your knees.  Make you beg.  It’s only going to make it better knowing how much you’ll enjoy it.”  

Breath gusted out of Sherlock, followed quickly by a whimper as Greg dug his teeth into his shoulder.  “You’re going to do something for us, Sherlock.”  John said, reaching up to firmly grip Sherlock’s chin, forcing him to hold his gaze.  “The toys are laid out on the desk.  I’m sure you’ve already noticed a couple new additions from Greg.”  Sherlock nodded minutely, unable to move much, given John’s hold on him.  “You’re going to choose what you would like tonight.  Put whichever toys you want on the bed, then come back here.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sherlock whispered and both Greg and John gave him some space to walk over to the desk.  They both stared as he did though.  Greg maybe a bit more than John, who got to see Sherlock flushed, hard and naked frequently.  They shared a glance as Sherlock mulled over the selection of toys; Greg’s raised eyebrows and open mouth spoke as loud as the smirk on John’s face.

Sherlock turned around and carefully placed his chosen items in the middle of the bed before coming back to stand between Greg and John.  “Very good, Sherlock.” John praised, watching the way Sherlock chewed at his bottom lip and blushed brighter.

“So well behaved.”  Greg added and Sherlock shivered.  

John glanced behind Sherlock to the bed.  “Hmm, let’s start with this.”  He said calmly, stepping over to the bed and picking up the black leather blindfold that Sherlock had chosen.  He placed it over Sherlock’s eyes and buckled it in place.  John stepped back again and both him and Greg just took a moment to take in the sight of Sherlock, fidgeting slightly where he stood, his stiff cock jutting out.  

The longer they waited, the more Sherlock visibly fought to keep still - his fingers twitching anxiously at his sides.  Greg was the first to give in.  Sherlock flinched when he placed a hand on his jaw, his thumb resting heavily on Sherlock’s plump bottom lip, but recovered from the small shock quickly.  Greg ran his thumb over that lip, giving a pleased hum when Sherlock stuck just the very tip of his tongue out to taste it.  Greg took the invitation and pushed his thumb into Sherlock’s mouth, rubbing it on his tongue as Sherlock closed his lips around it.  

Greg couldn’t resist popping his thumb out and pressing his lips to Sherlock’s sweet mouth instead.  He started off slow, relishing their first kiss, but soon deepened it, pushing his tongue past Sherlock’s lips as he cradled Sherlock’s head with both hands.  Sherlock nearly whimpered into the kiss, his body trembling slightly.

John didn’t want to admit how hot it was watching Greg kiss Sherlock, or how much he was thrilled by the smolder of possession that was radiating inside of him because of it - the predatory urge to mark and claim.  Sherlock was his.  Sherlock was his and he was giving him the gift of Greg, the gift of a new experience that Sherlock sorely wanted.  But, John still couldn’t help pushing Greg lightly aside and taking Sherlock’s mouth, still shining with Greg’s spit, for his own - kissing him hard and deep and biting down on his bottom lip.

“There’s one more thing we want you to do for us, Sherlock.” John said, putting his lips right up to Sherlock’s ear.  “We want you to come as many times as you want.” He whispered and Sherlock shuddered at the words.  “But, you have to ask permission before you do.”

“From both of us.”  Greg added, licking a quick stripe up Sherlock’s other ear.

“Is that understood?”  John asked.

“Yes, Sirs.” Sherlock breathed.

“Good, Sherlock.”  John said, licking and biting at Sherlock’s neck.

Greg ran his fingertips lightly over Sherlock’s chest, avoiding John’s dog tags, stopping to pinch and twist each of Sherlock’s nipples in turn, making him gasp.  Greg smiled at the noises Sherlock was making, and the way he clearly fought against his urges to squirm between him and John.  John had trained him well and it was obvious that Sherlock loved being able to slip away from himself and into the purely physical, into the headspace of existing solely for his dominant’s word and his pleasure.

With his fingers still traveling almost ticklishly light, Greg slowly made his way down Sherlock’s torso, feeling his smooth, warm skin, and the way it nearly twitched at his touch.  He brushed them right down past his navel and into the dark patch of his pubic hair - close, but not close enough.  Sherlock whimpered quietly and John distracted him from Greg’s touch with another deep kiss on the mouth, effectively splitting Sherlock’s attention.  

So, when Greg finally wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s stiff cock, Sherlock’s surprised moan, and the way his knees almost went out from under him was entirely genuine.  John’s arm wrapped around his back managed to keep him upright until he got his balance back, but he was breathing hard now, his chin dropped to his chest.  

Greg gave him a slow tug, watching the way John sucked and bit greedy, purple marks into Sherlock’s neck and shoulder as Sherlock whined, his cheeks under the blindfold flushed pink.  Sherlock was already leaking precome, and Greg smeared it with his thumb, dropping silently to his knees.  He licked a wet stripe up the underside of Sherlock’s cock, blowing a cool breath against it and enjoying the shiver Sherlock gave him.

John watched Greg down on his knees for Sherlock, licking at his cock, and felt a sharp little hit of jealousy.  Greg looked gorgeous on his knees, and John wondered what it would take to get Greg to do that for him.  Sherlock took a hitching breath as Greg wrapped his lips around him, sinking his mouth down slowly.  John smoothed his fingers up into Sherlock’s hair, gathering a fistful of it right at the crown, above the strap of the blindfold, and pulled hard.  

Sherlock’s head wrenched back and his hips inadvertently thrust forward into Greg’s mouth, making him choke briefly.  John smirked.  “What a lucky man you are.”  John said, keeping his solid grip on Sherlock’s hair, loving how the angle of his head made his already gorgeous neck tense and elongate.  “A mouth on your cock and you didn’t even have to work for it.  Didn’t even need to beg.”

Sherlock gave a throaty moan that Greg had to admit, was likely as much due to John’s words as to his own tongue licking circles around the head of Sherlock’s cock.  Greg hadn’t planned to make Sherlock come with his mouth, just couldn’t resist the opportunity to drive him a little crazy, let him know what he had been missing.  But, after John’s little stunt, he was suddenly driven to be the first to make Sherlock need to ask permission to come, and to do it quickly.

Greg bobbed his head on Sherlock’s cock, gripping the base of it with one hand, pumping it in rhythm with his mouth.  He teased at the slit with his tongue, wiggled it against Sherlock’s frenulum, and drew deep, gasping moans from him.  He groaned wantonly around Sherlock’s cock, palming his own through his jeans.  He was good at this because he truly enjoyed it.  Greg loved sucking cock.

John kept his hold on Sherlock’s hair, making him arch back slightly, his chest at John’s mercy.  Except John wasn’t merciful.  He pinched Sherlock’s nipples, twisted and tortured the little nubs until they were hard and reddened and Sherlock was torn between the dueling sensations of pain and pleasure.  He keened with it and it was beautiful.

Greg reached a hand up to cradle and tug at Sherlock’s bollocks, and Sherlock hauled in a ragged gasp.  “Ahh, p-please!” he yelped, “please, Sirs.”

John tsked.  “Already, Sherlock?  Either Greg is better than I thought, or you’re just a shameless little tart.”    

Greg popped off his cock briefly, not stopping his one hand that was rolling Sherlock’s bollocks slowly.  “You’ll have to ask better than _that_ , Sherlock.”

Sherlock took a deep breath in through his nose, clearly still close to the brink.  “Please, Sirs, may I come?”

Greg let his eyes wander slowly up the pale expanse of Sherlock’s body to make eye contact with John over Sherlock’s shoulder.  John gave him a lopsided smile and a little shrug.  “How badly do you need it?”  John asked and Greg gave a slow stroke to Sherlock’s cock, making him whine desperately.

“So bad.  Please, please I-I can’t.  I need … just _please_ let me come, Sirs.”

Greg gave a small hum at Sherlock’s stuttered rambling.  He had expected more of his sharp tongue and command of language to linger, but it seemed like sex shut his big brain down quite efficiently.  It was really quite refreshing, which was likely why Greg said “Well, alright then,” just as quickly as he did.

“Go on.” John nodded against Sherlock’s shoulder.

Greg slipped his mouth back down on Sherlock’s cock, giving it a couple firm pulls with his hand before Sherlock gasped “Th-thank you!”, as his body stiffened, shuddered, and he came in Greg’s mouth.  Greg liked this part too - the intimacy of it.  He swallowed and stood, pressing his mouth to Sherlock’s, shoving his tongue inside and making Sherlock taste himself there.  Sherlock moaned into it, still catching his breath.  

“Thank you, Sirs.” Sherlock whispered when Greg stepped back.

“Good, Sherlock,” John cooed from behind him.  “You know how much I love it when you’re polite, and grateful.  I think it’s time for another toy, don’t you, Greg?”

“God, yeah.”  Greg grinned.

John led Sherlock around to the foot of the bed, bending him over and placing Sherlock’s hands on the cool, metal bar of the footboard.  He traced his fingers down Sherlock’s spine, over the swell of his arse.  “How many do you think?”

Greg picked up the strap Sherlock had chosen off the bed, feeling the smooth loop of black rubber, and the leather-covered grip of the handle.  Greg preferred to use his own leather belt to administer a spanking, but Sherlock wanted this, so that’s what Sherlock would get.  “Why don’t you warm him up for me?  Get him nice and sensitive so he’ll really feel it.”

Sherlock shifted a little, and John cupped one arse cheek, kneading it roughly.  “I think that’s a great idea.  You’ll love how pretty Sherlock is all marked up.  We’ll start with ten.  Count for me, Sherlock.”  John instructed and without any further warning, brought his hard down hard and quick on Sherlock’s arse cheek.

“One.”  Sherlock sighed.

John alternated cheeks, giving firm slaps to the full, rounded flesh and Sherlock’s skin very quickly turned a lovely blush pink all over.  Greg was happy for the moment to just watch, and to listen to Sherlock’s sighs to turn to moans as he counted along to ten.  “I think he’s ready,” Greg said, putting a hand to Sherlock’s shoulder and guiding him to stand up straight.  “I want him on the bed though, on his back.”  Greg felt Sherlock give a full body shudder and smiled.  He guided Sherlock back to the side of the bed and sat him down on the edge of it.  “Lay back for me, Sherlock, legs up.  John, would you?”  Greg asked and John took his position sitting cross-legged on the bed at Sherlock’s head, holding his ankles.

Sherlock was completely laid bare in the position, like a baby on a changing table, his pink arse exposed, skin stretched tight to increase the sting of impact.  Greg couldn’t help but run his finger down the crack of Sherlock’s ass, right over his puckered arsehole.  “I’ll give you ten to start.  You don’t need to count for me, Sherlock,” Greg mused.  “But, I would love to hear you whimper and scream.”  He adjusted his grip on the strap, getting his stance and distance just right to make the most of the tool.  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” he muttered quietly, mostly to himself, before he swung his arm, putting his shoulder and upper body into it.  The strap hit Sherlock square in middle of his left arse cheek with a shockingly loud _CRACK_.  Sherlock groaned.  

That was part of the fun of this particular toy, John knew, how ear-splitting it was.  Sherlock loved having his senses deprived or overwhelmed, and the pain was really only a very small part of it all.  John ran his fingers lightly through Sherlock’s hair, still holding his ankles in position with a forearm.  He had never had the opportunity to comfort Sherlock _during_ a spanking before, and he relished the opportunity.

Greg was ruthless, putting all his strength behind each swing of the strap, painting Sherlock’s arse in blooming red.  “That’s gorgeous, Sherlock,” John whispered.  “Look how well you take it.” John knew what it did to Sherlock to be praised - he revelled in it - and usually John saved it for when they were winding down, or Sherlock had been particularly well behaved.  But now, with someone else doling out the punishment, John could treat Sherlock to something a little different.

Sherlock did whimper and cry out, much to Greg’s pleasure, and it only spurred him on.  He aimed the last two hits on the tender, thin skin on the backs of Sherlock’s thighs, doing them in quick, hard succession.  Sherlock gave a broken sounding shout of “Ahh, Lestrade!”   

“Sherlock!”  John scolded.  “That’s no way to address your superior, is it?”  

“I .. uhh .. Sir!”  Sherlock scrambled verbally.  “I’m sorry, Sir!”

“Well it’s too late for that isn’t it?”  Greg said, picking up the only remaining toy left on the bed.  “Up.  John and I have to decide what to do with you.”

John let Sherlock’s ankles go and Greg helped ease them slowly to the floor then helped Sherlock to his feet.  He grabbed one of Sherlock’s wrists, moving it to the small of his back and bodily forcing Sherlock up against a wall.  Sherlock moaned when he heard the police-issue handcuffs click open.  Greg secured his wrists with them, then lead him over to the chair in the corner, sitting him down on his undoubtedly smarting arse given the wince and hiss of breath he gave.

John walked over, wrapping his hand around his dog tags hanging around Sherlock’s neck.  “Colour?” he asked.

“Green.”  Sherlock answered, squirming just a little.

“We’re stepping out of the room, Sherlock, but not far.”  John said and Sherlock gave a nod, prompting John to drop the tags and lead Greg out of the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

They both looked a little flushed, hard in their respective jeans, and Greg was still breathing a bit rough from his exertion.  “Water?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”  John said, rummaging in the cupboard for a couple of glasses and pulling a jug from the fridge, pouring for both of them before handing one glass to Greg.

“Ta.”

“Mmm.”  They both drank, staying silent for a moment.  “Having fun?” John smiled.

“Jesus.” Greg groaned.  “He’s gorgeous.  Perfect.  How did you get to be such a lucky bastard?”

John shrugged.  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to deal with the strops and the body parts in the fridge, so I think it evens out.”

Greg just laughed and finished off his water.  “So, what’s the plan?”

“Oh, I have an idea.”  John grinned wickedly.


	2. Chapter 2

They let Sherlock wait a little longer before going back into the bedroom to find him looking for all the world like a chastised toddler in time out, except of course, that he was a grown man, naked, restrained with handcuffs and wearing a thick leather blindfold.

Greg walked over and unclasped the blindfold, leaving Sherlock blinking in the relative brightness of the room. “I-I’m…” Sherlock stuttered.

“Hush.” John ordered and Sherlock’s jaw clamped shut.  “You will be still, you will be silent, and you will watch, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked confusedly between Greg and John, but did as he was told.  They stepped close together, right in front of Sherlock, and Greg reached out to fist his hands in John’s shirt, closing the distance and kissing him hard on the mouth.

John kissed him back just as hard and it was a rough tangle of teeth and lips and tongues that they both moaned in to.  Then, they set to work undressing each other - pulling buttons open and slipping fabric from shoulders, running hands over heated skin, and ignoring Sherlock entirely.  Who, to his credit, managed to keep quiet, although it looked like he was about to chew through his bottom lip.

Greg was a little surprised by John’s compact form, almost small, but so solid.  He felt briefly self-conscious about his own bit of pudge around the middle, but quickly forgot it when John’s fingers reached his waistband, deftly tackling button and zip and starting to shove his jeans off his hips.  

“Jesus.” John groaned when Greg did the same to him, his straining cock finally a bit more free.  They separated for a moment,  each slipping out of their pants and trousers, before coming back together, pressing flush together, naked.  Sherlock whimpered quietly.  John ignored it in favour of kissing Greg again, enjoying the scrape of his stubble and their cocks rubbing between their bodies.  It was divine, delicious - Greg was incredible.

“You see, Sherlock,” John said, his voice a little low and hoarse, “We could just leave you right there, finish each other off while you watch, handcuffed and unable to touch yourself.”

“Maybe we would leave you wanting the rest of the night.”  Greg chipped in, running his fingers through John’s short hair but looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock’s mouth opened in protest, but he closed it again, looking down apologetically.  John gave Greg one last fierce kiss, then went over to Sherlock, holding his chin and making him meet his eye.  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Sirs.” Sherlock said feebly.  “I-I forgot myself. Please.  It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”  John warned.  “Up, face the side of the bed.”

Both Greg and John watched relief wash over Sherlock’s face, replaced by a wince as he stood, almost scrambling to do as he was told.  Greg stepped up behind him, grabbing the handcuff key off the nightstand and unlocking one loop.  He swung Sherlock around to face him and re-cuffed him with wrists in front of him this time before turning him back around.  Greg climbed up on the bed, stacking pillows so he could lean back against the headboard comfortably with his legs spread out in front of him.  “Come on, then.”  he said, patting the empty space between his thighs.

Sherlock got up on the bed a bit awkwardly with his hands hobbled and arse likely still smarting something awful.  John followed him, guiding him onto his knees and forearms, head in Greg’s lap and John taking up position behind him.  

Greg stroked his cock, only inches away from Sherlock’s face, watching as he licked his lips and stared.  “I think you know what to do.”  Greg smirked and Sherlock opened his mouth obediently.  He licked up Greg’s cock, around the head, lapping and laving with the flat of his tongue, getting everything nice and wet before wrapping his lips around the head and starting to sink his warm mouth down.  Greg groaned and twined his fingers into Sherlock’s hair.

John watched for a moment, knowing how good Sherlock was at giving head.  He opened the bottle of lube he had grabbed and slicked up his fingers, gently parting Sherlock’s reddened arse cheeks, noting that a few spots were already darkening to purple bruises.  He pressed two fingers against Sherlock’s puckered arsehole, spreading the lube before slowly slipping one digit inside.  Sherlock moaned around Greg’s cock.

Greg was breathing a bit hard again.  Sherlock’s mouth was marvelous, especially with the noises he was making as John started to open him up.  “Christ.”  Greg sighed, “John’s a lucky man to get to shove his cock down your throat anytime he wants.  Bet he does it sometimes just to shut you up, huh?” Greg tugged on Sherlock’s hair, making him look up, make eye contact as he licked and sucked on Greg’s cock.  Gorgeous.

It didn’t take long until John had two slick fingers in Sherlock’s arse, scissoring and stretching, working him open with practiced ease.  He avoided his prostate, both not wanting to give him too much pleasure, and so that Sherlock didn’t involuntarily jerk with Greg’s cock in his mouth.  That would be more than a little traumatizing for everyone, he was sure.  So he just focused on loosening tight muscles and getting Sherlock’s insides wet with lube.

Greg groaned again as Sherlock sunk his mouth down further than before, right up until his nose pressed into Greg’s pubic hair and his cock butted up against the back of Sherlock’s throat.  “That’s it, Sherlock.  You’re much better behaved with a cock in your mouth.  So good for us.”  Sherlock pulled off to choke in a breath before diving back down on Greg’s cock, punishing his own throat with the force and pace.  

Three fingers in now and Sherlock was opening up beautifully.  His pink arsehole stretched around John’s fingers, shining with lube.  John moved them in and out slowly, feeling the remaining bit of tightness that made his knuckles catch briefly on the rim of Sherlock’s arse before slipping inside.  He added a bit more lube and his fingers slipped in without resistance after a few more push-pulls.  

John gave a pleased little hum at his good work, and gave Sherlock’s cock, which had been stiff and leaking again since he and Greg had undressed, a few slow strokes.  “Ready to trade?”  John asked, more than a little jealous of the attention Sherlock had been paying to Greg’s cock, and ready to get some himself.

“God, yeah.”  Greg groaned, pulling Sherlock off by his hair, even though he really, really didn’t actually want to.  Sherlock’s mouth was heavenly, but he bet his arse was possibly even more so.

Greg and John traded places - Greg now kneeling behind Sherlock, and John kneeling at his front, after helping Sherlock into a more upright position on his hands and knees, the cuffs making the position a bit unstable.  Sherlock gave a needy sounding whimper, knowing exactly what was coming. 

Greg spread Sherlock’s arse cheeks, stared at his pink, slick, open hole and moaned shamelessly, needing to squeeze his eyes shut and toss his head back briefly to overcome the hot wave of lust that ran through him at the sight.  “Fuck.  Just look at you.”  Greg found the discarded bottle of lube and slicked himself up.  He could hardly wait another moment to bury himself inside of Sherlock.

John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, used his other hand to slowly stroke his own neglected cock while he watched Greg inch himself forward.  The look on his face making it clear that not slamming directly into Sherlock in one thrust was an act of great restraint.  Sherlock moaned for more and John shushed him.  “Feels good, doesn’t it, Sherlock?  Being filled up?  Soon all your pretty little holes will be full and won’t that be even better?”

“Yes, Sir.”  Sherlock moaned breathily, his eyes starting to glaze over the deeper Greg pushed inside of him.  “I want it so bad.  B-both of you, inside of me.  Please, Sirs.”

Listening to the great Sherlock Holmes, the mad bastard himself, unabashedly beg to be stuffed full of cock was about the most arousing thing Greg had ever heard.  “Don’t worry, Sherlock, you’ll get it.” he said, teeth gritted as he sunk the final distance and was flush with Sherlock’s bruised arse.  He groaned loudly, smoothing a hand down Sherlock’s back and giving them both a minute to adjust before he moved his hands to grip on to Sherlock’s hips.

Greg drew his hips back and snapped them forward, making Sherlock keen.  It was incredible - so slick and tight and Sherlock rocked back into him wantonly while John licked his lips and stared at them both.  It was a dream, Greg was sure of it now, there was no way this could be real.

“Open up for me.” John said quietly and Sherlock did so eagerly, letting John slide his stiff prick into that warmth and wetness.  John grabbed his dog tags which were dangling off Sherlock’s neck, and turned them around so they pooled in the hollow between Sherlock’s shoulder blades instead of hitting John in the thighs.  That done, he looked up to meet Greg’s eye and they set up, at first, a slow push-pull rhythm that shifted Sherlock between them.   

Soon the bedroom was over-warm and filled with the sounds of the three men - heavy breathing, moans and curses, and slick, wet skin sounds as Greg and John fucked Sherlock from both ends.  It was bliss all around, and they quickly picked up the pace, fucking into Sherlock mercilessly, jolting him back and forth between them as John bottomed out in Sherlock’s throat as Greg pulled out, then John pulled nearly all the way out as Greg’s hips slammed forward.

Sherlock was in a world of constant stimulation and soon he was moaning with increasing urgency.  John signalled to Greg to slow, but not stop.  “Do you want to come?”  John asked, looking down at Sherlock, brushing the limp, sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Mmhmff,” was Sherlock’s muffled response, nodding minutely with John’s cock in his mouth.

“I don’t know, Sherlock.  You haven’t exactly been on your best behaviour, have you?”  John chastised and Sherlock whined desperately in response.

“Don’t be cruel, John.” Greg smiled, still slowly fucking Sherlock’s arse, getting very close himself.

“Well Sherlock, if you can come untouched, you have permission, otherwise you’re waiting until both Greg and I are finished.  Understood?”

Sherlock gave his small nod and moaned when John and Greg picked the pace back up again.  Greg held hard onto Sherlock’s hips, steadying himself as he drove his hips forward.  “That’s it, Sherlock.” he moaned, “that’s it.  Christ you feel good.  I’m going to come inside you.  You want it don’t you?”  The high whine Sherlock gave in response was definitely an affirmative.  Greg was barely holding on, sheer willpower the only thing between him and orgasm.  He could feel it burning low in his belly, throbbing inside of him, and he knew once he let it, it would hit him like a tidal wave.  

John was in a similar state.  Sherlock’s mouth and throat and tongue working their magic, and watching Greg fuck him was an extra factor that had him biting his lip to try to keep hold of himself.  He didn’t want to come first.  Didn’t want to be the first to lose it and spill inside Sherlock.  He gritted his teeth and gathered every ounce of his willpower to hold on just that little bit longer.

Greg groaned roughly, his hips suddenly stilling and his eyes slipping closed, head tipping back, and his mouth falling open as he came inside Sherlock.  He nearly blacked out with how good it felt and how each beat of his wildly pumping heart seemed to make more pleasure course through his veins, made him that much more sensitive, feel that much better.  Eventually he came down off his orgasmic high enough to see that John was staring wide-eyed at him, licking his lips as Sherlock moaned around his cock.

Greg looked amazing when he came, and John couldn’t help but stare and wish that Sherlock had seen it.  Maybe next time.  He gripped tight on Sherlock’s hair, breathing hard and grunting out a single “fuck” before he came.  Sherlock swallowed around him, licking greedily at his slit and John slumped forward a little over him, feeling his cock twitch inside his mouth.

Both spent and panting, Greg and John slipped out of Sherlock, petting his hot, damp skin as he collapsed down onto the bed.  Greg rolled him over onto his back, noticing that his cock was still hard and laying flat against his belly.  With his wrists cuffed together, he could probably only touch himself with any satisfaction if he curled up on his side.  “Couldn’t do it, huh?” Greg teased, running his hand up the inside of Sherlock’s thigh.

“Please, Sirs.” Sherlock begged pitifully, “Please let me come.”

John moved to sit at Sherlock’s side, watching as Greg reached out to wrap his fingers around Sherlock’s stiff cock.  “Go on, then.” John smiled, as Greg started to pump his fist, letting his thumb stray over the wet head.

“Come for us, Sherlock.” Greg urged.

John slipped two fingers inside Sherlock’s sloppy, reddened hole, wet with lube and Greg’s come, and sought out his prostate.  He stroked over it gently as Greg’s hand moved quickly, a little twist on the upstroke.  It was only a moment before Sherlock was arching off the bed, coming all over his chest and stomach with a choked shout.  “Thank you, Sirs.” he panted as soon as he had the capacity to, his cock still spurting weakly, arsehole fluttering around John’s fingers.

There was a collective sigh as hands and fingers were removed, tissues passed for a cursory cleanup, and handcuffs unlocked and tossed over the side of the bed.  John fetched a warm, wet cloth and tenderly cleaned Sherlock up, before letting Greg use it, then himself.  They all still needed a shower pretty badly, but it got the job done for the time being.

“You were so good.  So good for us, Sherlock.”  John cooed, kissing Sherlock tenderly on the mouth, finding his dog tags and holding them in his hand.  “You want these on a little while longer?”  Sherlock nodded sleepily.  “Is everything alright, love?  Need anything?”

“No, I’m excellent, John.  Just stay here.” Sherlock said quietly.

“Of course.  Let’s at least get you up on the pillows though, yeah?”  John smiled and they shifted so Sherlock was curled in the middle of the bed, John spooning up behind him.  

Greg felt suddenly like he was intruding - the proverbial third wheel, and got up off the bed to go gather his things and leave John and Sherlock be.  He was stopped by John’s hand on his wrist.

“Stay,” John said, his voice warm but insistent.  “He needs _ you _ too.”

Greg nodded, moving to lay down with the two men, sandwiching Sherlock between them.  He and John shared a smile before settling down into the pillows and pulling a sheet over top of them all.  Sherlock almost nuzzled into Greg, one hand just below his sternum as he pushed his forehead into his chest, giving a happy sounding hum.

Both Greg and John wrapped arms over him, making a tight little cocoon where Sherlock quickly fell asleep.  

“Who do you think won?”  John whispered, once Sherlock was well and truly conked out.

Greg had to hold back his chuckle.  “Honestly, my bet’s on Sherlock.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)
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> [Here](http://www.amazon.com/Strict-Leather-Extreme-Punishment-Strap/dp/B008JGNIF6/) is the reference I used for the strap.
> 
> Thank you to my excellent beta readers [Di](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled) and [Liz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily).


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